fRubber Duck
by Em Fargo
Summary: For the Muggle Studies lesson on r/Harry Potter. What is the function of a rubber duck?


"Today," said Professor Burbage, "we have a presentation by a Muggle-born student. This will hopefully be less shocking than our last presentation on the 'Toaster.'" She paused while everyone laughed at the memory of the universal jumping and occasional screaming that had taken place when the toast popped up. "We can also hope that Jean will have a longer time to present, without the difficulty of conjuring electricity." She frowned. "These… don't require electricity, do they?"

"No, Professor," Jean smiled. "Rubber duckies are wholly self-powering. They subsist on geothermal energy, which is why they spend so much time in the water."

As everyone took notes, Professor Burbage interjected, "But before we get to the power system, what exactly is this duck for? We can see," she pointed to the relevant parts of the duck, "that it is made of a somewhat rubbery substance, and that it is yellow, implying a neotenic state, at least if it correlates to our ducks, which are only golden as children. Do they ever grow up?"

"Oh, yes, Professor," Jean assured her, "but their lifespan is far longer than the scale of a wizard, much less an actual duck. You can keep a juvenile rubber ducky for years, even decades, without noting a change in color or size."

"Fascinating. Have you ever seen an adult rubber duck?"

"Once," Jean replied earnestly, "but in general they stay deep underwater, like mermaids. You see, the buoyancy of this ducky," she demonstrated, using the basin of water she'd been given, "will leave it as it matures. That is why you will mostly find only young duckies in Muggle stores."

"Very interesting! But for what reason to Muggles buy them?"

"Well, their main use is as a mildly sentient life form—like a cat, but easier to take care of, due to its not needing physical food."

"Really!" exclaimed the professor. "It's sentient?"

"Well, it rarely speaks, but when it does, it is usually something very wise." She squeezed the duck a little, and it squeaked. "Oh, no, don't be modest," she said to the duck. "You've had great experiences in your few years of life."

"Why, Jean!" interjected Professor Burbage. "You can understand the duck?"

Jean looked surprised. "You can't?" She thought for a moment. "I suppose wizards are less likely to be anatidaetongued. Really, I'm lucky I got the gene from my parents! I simply couldn't imagine life without conversation with duckies. Does it just sound like quacking to you?" She whispered something to the duck and it squeaked again.

Professor Burbage turned to the class. "How many of you hear words when the duck speaks?" A few of the Muggle-borns cheerfully raised their hands. The rest just looked stunned. "And who hears only quacking?" A couple of tentative hands were raised.

"Professor!" called out Yolanda Marsden, "I hear a strange sort of squeaking sound!" A murmur of agreement went around the class.

"Squeaking!" agreed Professor Burbage. "That's what I hear, too!"

"Aah," said Jean sagely, "that must be what it sounds like to the avian-challenged." None of the other students were sure how to feel about being called "challenged", but the Muggle-borns who had understood the duck were grinning smugly.

"Does the duck have anything to say to us now?" asked Professor Burbage.

Jean looked at the duck inquisitively, since of course it had heard the question. After it squeaked a bit, she said "Of course! I should've mentioned it!" and smiled out at the class as if that had answered the question. There was a moment of uncertain silence before Jean appeared to remember the language barrier.

"Oh! Sorry! He was telling you all that duckies have a small amount of magic. Not much to be at all useful to us, or to be listed in Newt Scamander's magnum opus, but enough to perhaps let a Muggle feel like a Squib."

"Can you demonstrate, Jean?" Professor Burbage asked excitedly.

Jean grimaced as if the professor had made an embarrassing faux pas. "Please ask the ducky."

Professor Burbage looked stricken. "I beg your pardon, Mr.— err, what was your name?"

Jean translated the following squeak as "Ernie." Everyone stared at Ernie Macmillan, who tried to smile, but looked nervous.

"Yes, thank you," agreed Professor Burbage. "Mr. Ernie, can you demonstrate a bit of magic?"

First, Jean placed Ernie into the basin of water, where he made bubbles. The class oohed and ahhed. Then, she announced, "Ernie can perform a weak but nonverbal form of the Aguamenti spell. It isn't strong enough to put out fires, but his manner of execution is enviable even by wizards." She squeezed her fingers around the duck slightly, and a stream of water came out from his underside. There were a few gasps and a few snickers.

Professor Burbage frowned reservedly. "And he wasn't just… excreting?"

Jean's eyes widened as Ernie let out a long squeak. "I think you'll find," Jean said carefully, "that it is pure water." At the professor's hesitance, she sighed, put a finger into the puddle on the desk, and put that finger into her mouth. A couple of students groaned. "Now, would I do that with an excretion?"

"No," said Professor Burbage, looking appeased, "I suppose not. Everyone give Jean and Ernie a hand!" As everyone applauded, she added, "and, Ernie, would you like to sit in on the rest of the class? We'd love to have your perspective."

Ernie squeaked in agreement.

On the way back to her desk, Jean caught the eye of her Muggle-born friend Maria, both of them trying their best to keep a straight face.


End file.
